


Krumbling Around Them

by ArloRhode



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bulgaria - Freeform, F/M, New Curses, Summer After Year Four
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-02 10:48:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5245481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArloRhode/pseuds/ArloRhode
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the worst, and I am sorry.<br/>---<br/>The war begins in Bulgaria, just as it was being denied by the English. In a land who's largest school of wizardry is, in fact, famous for teaching the dark arts, Hermione's safety is quickly compromised...when all she wanted was to see Viktor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, so this is IN Bulgaria, but still POV Hermione. So, there will be a lot of Bulgarian. Hermione, as we are in HER head, does not understand all of it. I promise, it may be annoying, but it is on purpose. She will translate some of it herself, yay magic, but don't worry about any of that yourself. All will be revealed in time. :)

Hermione couldn’t help looking out the window. After all, it was Bulgaria, and it was stunning. That was what she told herself anyway. It was definitely not because she didn’t want to meet the boys’ eyes. Definitely not. He and Harry had offered to drive Hermione in the Weasley’s new-and-improved flying car before heading off to The Burrow. That meant they were both fine about her spending July here. Right? No, she simply couldn’t keep her eyes off the old urban sprawl as they rode onwards to the St. Alexander Nevsky’s Cathedral.

As they approached Sofia, the capital, though, even Harry’s chipper remarks had grown quiet, and Ron’s snide grumbles had ended long ago. Now it was just the tense silence. Why was Hermione feeling guilty? How could her friends have any real objection to her spending a wee four weeks with the Krums? Hermione tugged at her turtleneck. Ginny had been pretty pissed that she had worn it. Hermione closed her eyes. Viktor was not one to care about what was covering her breasts, she knew. Well, she hoped. But then again...Hermione didn’t let herself imagine it. Ron and Harry were right next to her, and it seemed like an even bigger betrayal. If only Hermione could figure out just why it was she felt so guilty.  
......

Even the traffic seemed foreign. They were maybe ten minutes from where Krum would be waiting for her. It was nearing 9:00 pm, but the city lights were enough to see every detail of the city. Even Harry and Ron were craning their necks for a better view. Sure enough, the grand cathedral was pulling into view, and it was incredible. The spotlights lit up the glowing stone and blue tiles, and everywhere she looked there were people, people, people. Hermione rolled down her window, squinting into the cold air. It smelled like New and Exciting. As Ron found a parking spot, Hermione felt 6 hours worth of words pouring out of her. 

“Boys, I can’t thank you enough. She threw her arms around Harry, who had unstrapped so as to lean into the middle console. He hugged her back, laughing in his breathy way, like he was always feeling sheepish to some degree. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Well, don’t do anything drastic, I mean.” Hermione pulled back and looked from Ron to Harry to Ron. “At least...don’t without telling me first?” 

Ron smiled a bit. Hermione hugged him too. “Alright, alright,” he wheezed. “I’ll be sure to call when Harry finally snogs Cho.” Hermione looked quickly enough to see Harry grimace. She grinned. 

“Well then, I’m off,” she said, stepping out of the car. “Please take care of each other.” Hermione closed the door, reached through the window. She took Ron’s hand and squeezed. “Alright?” 

“Aw, Hermione, don’t look so…” Harry laughed.  
“What?” Hermione exclaimed incredulous.  
“I dunno...forlorn?” he shook his head. Ron cracked another smile.  
“Um, give my mum a ring when you get there. Tell her you got safe to...wherever you’re going…” Ron slumped back into his seat, running a hand through his tousled hair. 

Hermione straightened up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and gripping the straps. She looked up the street at the bustle. The car window began to close, and Hermione waved goodbye. She stood there, rocking back and forth on her heels, on her toes, watching until the car disappeared behind a bus. It was like she was on the train home after first year again, almost afraid to let go because it was so special, what she had found at Hogwarts, with those boys. Hermione breathed. But it wasn’t quite the same. She couldn’t tell if she was nervous or excited, but she was in fact relieved that they had gone peacefully. Nothing she could do here in Bulgaria could hurt them, because nothing she could do here would reach them back home. Though that might be Ginny talking, “What happens in Bulgaria stays in Bulgaria!” Ginny had laughed over a pint of butterbeer back in June. Hermione wondered if she would have actually gone on this trip if Ginny hadn’t talked her into it. Hermione turned from the curb, and smiled. Probably she would have, only without the vivid-fantasy-thing.

Speaking of which, now she just needed to find Viktor. Viktor Krum, Hermione thought to herself. Viktor Krum, Viktor Krum, Viktor Krum. There was something so perfect about sounding out that name. She was finally here. Hermione wiped the sweat from her eyebrow. She must be excited to some degree, she told herself, it can't all be Ginny, it was too cold out to feel as warm as she did. Hermione wove her way through the tourists. She craned her neck to see if she could spot Viktor. She headed towards the fountain in the center of the plaza, a grand old thing with a tiled pool at the bottom, sparkling with tossed coins.

Hermione stepped up onto the ledge, and looked around. If Viktor was in the crowd, she could not see him. Hermione squirmed under her backpack. This shirt was too hot, bloody Ginny. It was making her feel sick to her stomach. Perhaps it was all that flying/driving catching up to her. Hermione turned around and looked down into the fountain. She reached into her pocket to find a penny. She held it flat in the palm of her hand. It...it was shaking. Something was not right. Hermione was uncomfortable, she wa... no, something was- Hermione’s phone rang. She had bought a prepaid just for this trip. She swung around her backpack, tearing it open and scrabbling for her phone. She looked at the number.

“Ron?!” she asked. It was like a hoarse squeak. What was happening? And where was Viktor? She could hear shouting on the other end of the line.

“Hermione! Thank god!” It was Harry. “Hermione, something weird went after the car, we couldn’t see it! We had to...we had to lift off early, but we don’t know...anyway, we are away from whatever it was! Are you alright?” Hermione had to focus in order to process what he was telling her. Something was wrong. Wrong indeed, Hermione giggled. Harry got quiet. “Hermione?”

Hermione couldn’t respond, or at least she didn’t have the energy to concentrate enough to speak. Her voice rang clear, though. “Don’t worry. I am fine. I am safe. Get home quickly now, I’ll call.” Hermione barely registered the fact that her lips weren’t moving. It wasn’t her speaking. It wasn’t…

“Well, alright. Be careful, Hermione.” Harry replied. He hung up. Hermione dropped her phone. She felt herself choking on her breath. She could only feel...hot. Her chest was numb, she was so tired. Hermione couldn’t stop herself from falling back. 

The water hit her cold, like a slap to the face. The jolt gave Hermione enough awareness to reach for her wand. Just grab it, she thought. Just get your wand, and… Hermione held her wand up to her face. Somewhere inside of her, Hermione recognized what her numbness meant. It had, after all, moved more to her right side, which meant… Hermione jerked to her right like a puppet. “Stupefy!” she yelled.

A figure in black suddenly appeared, crumpling to the floor.

Hermione immediately felt better. She scrambled to her feet...then started regretting it. Okay, she though, maybe not all better. But her head was clear enough to know that she needed to get out of here. Hermione dragged herself out of the fountain, dripping, and scooped up her backpack. She was getting looks. Hermione, deep down, was a rule follower, and she couldn’t help wondering what would happen to her, just, wow. She had used magic in public. She had to move, before this person woke up, before the muggles staring at her approached. 

Already breathing too quickly, Hermione tried to move away, quickly but not attention-attracting-that-girl-is-running-from-a-crime-scene quickly. She couldn’t really tell. Hermione paused on the curb, hesitating. She looked back. As the people, still reeling from what they had just seen, were not milling about as they had before, Hermione could see clearly that dark figure, twitching, rolling over...and pushing himself up. His eyes met hers, and Hermione decided that she would run, and this time, would not hesitate. 

Through the labyrinth cars, practically parked with the traffic, into this dark alley here. Hermione told herself to think clearly. The shadows cast here were made eery by the steam coming from vents near the cracked pavement. There was a small chain link fence, leading into another alley, between these tall buildings, and the links had been bent away near the pole at the wall. Hermione could squeeze through, if she shoved her backpack in first. Her hair got caught, and she had to pull it out with her hands. She looked to see if the man was catching up, but he couldn’t see him yet. Hermione turned to run away, but, as an afterthought, muttered a Reparo on the fence. It now would seem like a less plausible escape route, if the hooded man saw it. She hoped.

This new alley only went on for about 30 feet, before turning right. Good, Hermione thought, glancing over her shoulder. You couldn’t even see the fence from here...Hermione slowed as she looked back towards her current course. It was...a dead end. The brick walls rose high, high up, with few windows, and some dubious fire escapes. It smelled like cooking oil, and rust. A group of young men, near the end of the alley, sat on empty crates, holding beers, and staring at her. Hermione glanced over her shoulder once more before cautiously approaching the group. Her fingers clenched the straps of her backpack so hard, Hermione could feel her fingernails pushing back. Hermione stopped a few feet from the table. She was trying to remember how to say hello in Bulgarian when one of the men, dressed much like the “ancient” photos of her father during his cliche-Rocker-phase, spoke.

“Mozhem li da vi pomogna?” he asked.  
Hermione shook her head. “Az...angliĭski?” she replied, unsure of her translation. The man laughed.  
“Ah, you are...vr, eh...ha, sorry, from England, yah?” he asked. Hermione felt as relieved as the situation allowed. The man smiled warmly, and she saw dimples. Hermione nodded her head.

“There is a man following me,” she paused. “May I use that fire escape?” Hermione pointed to the set of ladders behind the men's’ crates. The man speaking raised his eyebrows.

“Up to thee...roofeh?” he pursed his lips. “Yes, yes. This man, haff he seen you...eh...go down here?” Hermione bit her lip.

“Ne znam.” she replied, releasing the tight grasp on her backpack. She stretched her fingers. 

The man nodded, thinking, he looked back at his friends, who contributed, “Tya tryabva da bŭde nared.”

“They mean et should be alright,” their representative translated. “Do not vorry. Ve will cover for you.” He grasped Hermione’s shoulder encouragingly. He directed her to the ladder. “The roofeh, et goes over two buildings, end then has anoth...another ladder. Down to a different set ov streets.”

Hermione smiled tentatively at the rest of the group, before grabbing the first rung of the cold ladder. After a few feet she looked down, and shouted her thanks. “Blagodarya!”

“Kŭsmet, kŭsmet!” they laughed. Hermione pulled herself up two more ladders, the rungs rough and dirty under her sweating palms. At the top, she had to step over a meter-high wall whatsit, down to the darkened cement. Dried bird droppings and trash littered the sooty collection of pipes jutting out of the concrete beneath her, at different heights, different widths. She lurched forward when she spotted the top of that other fire escape, across the field of chimneys, but froze up only a moment later. Hermione tentatively dropped to her hands and knees, and scooted towards the ledge. Trying to breathe as quietly as possible, she listened. 

The man down there, he was shouting, first in Bulgarian, than in english. “You! You cannot be back ‘ere!” But then...another voice. His voice, she knew. Grumbling, icy. The bulgarians responded, just as cold, “Ve do not know vhat you are talking about, please leaf.” And then…

“Imperio!”

There was silence, then a small scuffling sound. Hermione ran.

She vaulted over the divides, thinking only the imperious, my god, my god. Who was this wizard? As Hermione crossed the first roof, she heard the sound of feet hitting the roof behind her, one, two...four pairs. Hermione could see the other ladder, right there, right there! She jumped down onto the creaking metal platform, and knew she would not be able to scale down in time. She felt a hand grabbing her backpack, and yanking her back. Hermione managed one “Stupefy!” but only hit the man behind her captor. She tried to scream, but a hand clapped over her mouth. What to do?!

Hermione saw the fifth pair of feet, the cloaked wizard, walking slowly and deliberately across the roofs. So quiet, you couldn’t hear him, so slow, it made Hermione wonder what he was thinking under that hood. She didn’t want to know, she was scared, she was really scared. And as she realized this, Hermione clenched her eyes shut tighttighttight.... She heard a harsh yell form above her.

A blow coming from the other side of the man knocked Hermione off her feet, but tore him off of her as well. She opened her eyes, only to receive a blow to her gut from one of the bulgarian men. She crumpled to her hands and knees once more, and Hermione could feel her arms shaking. But then there was that shouting sound again. She could hear thumps, and more of those horrible curses, but that only wanted to make her curl up more.

Then it stopped. In the silence, Hermione heard a light set of feet hitting the roof, and heavy breathing. The feet, in their leather boots, stopped in front of her, and Viktor Krum knelt to wrap his arms around her tightly. “Hermione.”

She looked at him. “You said it…” she coughed. He held her closer.

“I have been practising.” he whispered back.


	2. Turmoil

Hermione felt like sleeping. She had exhausted herself with adrenaline, and Viktor was warm, and his breathing was comforting to her...buuuut they were on a broom. After Hermione had explained the situation to him, Viktor quickly set her up on his broom. She had the good sense to cast a Feather Light charm on herself, but this also meant she had to cling to Viktor as they flew. Hermione grimaced at herself. She had snuggled up to him shamelessly. Still, she could hear his heart beating, and it was calming, even as he gave his hoarse explanation of what was going on.

“Voldemort ees back, you know this. I know your government does not theenk so, but I...vell, I know. My family, too, my government has at least started preparing. Right now, ve believe that Bulgarian servants of the dark lord are targeting inde...individual vizards. Powerful ones. Lover the ranks before the var can really begin,

“Harry Potter ees definitely on that list. You vere traveling with him, and I thought I could take them out before you arrived, get you here secretly...but they knew, somehow, and I could not draw them away…” he trailed off.

“Viktor, it's not your fault. I’m really ok,” Hermione tried to put some space between them, be more modest. It wasn’t working out for her. She peeked over Viktor’s shoulder. He looked a little different, his hair was longer than since they’d last met, but he was still handsome. His eyes were distant and unfocused, though. “Viktor? Are you feeling alright?”

Viktor smiled slightly. “Yes, I am alright. I am only...distracted. I vas vorried...” Hermione smiled too, under her scarf that the boy had wrapped around her before taking off. 

“I shall be quiet then.” she sighed. 

The great cathedral was officially out of sight.

...

 

Hermione was twitchy and tired by the time they touched down, but there was little time to process anything. She had been jolted into reality suddenly, as Viktor landed on a roof of a tall, important looking building, with flags everywhere (all lit by spotlight, Hermione noticed, making everything seem more official.) Immediately, people in uniform were shouting at him in Bulgarian, and he responded just as rapidly. They swept Hermione off her feet, ushering the pair across the graveled rooftops and inside a heavy, utilitarian door. 

The fluorescent lights were, for a moment, blinding. Still Hermione was pushed forward, beginning to feel uncomfortable. Through all the stimulation, though, Viktor found her hand, and her mind quieted a little. Before she knew it, she was urged through a door, which closed behind her and Viktor with a click. Hermione breathed deeply, shuddering. She knew her eyes were wide as she turned to face the room, clutching the arm of her companion. Viktor himself was standing up straighter, like a soldier, and after a second of focus, Hermione knew why.

They were in a conference room of some kind, with a dark green carpet, and large polished table. The entire back wall was a window, looking out over a great lawn, lit by spotlights and dotted with flags. And, waiting there...Viktor’s parents. Hermione let go of Viktor’s arm, trying to compose herself. She watched as Mr. and Mrs. Krum swiveled in their dark leather chairs to look at them. Mrs. Krum stood immediately, throwing her arms around Viktor. “I am glad you are safe!” she pulled away, and glanced at Hermione. Mr. Krum, a cold look on his face, stood as well. Viktor straightened even more, standing at an attention. Mrs. Krum backed up. There was a moment of quiet.

“Ti mi se podchini , sinko,” said Mr. Krum, quietly. 

Viktor closed his eyes. “Az znam,” he whispered.

Mr. Krum sighed, looking disappointed. “Helga, vill you take Ms. Granger to the other room?” 

Mrs. Krum nodded, taking Hermione’s elbow and gently leading her towards an open door, down a staircase. Hermione looked back at Viktor. He was frowning at the ground. What had she done this time? Hermione wiped her nose. “This ees the headquarters for the Ministry's...the Bulgarian Ministry, that ees, for muggle-vizard relations! We are here for a little vhile, until we can get out safely…” Mrs. Krum’s voice was warm. “Make yourself comfortable,” Hermione stood nervously. This room’s lights were less severe, and there was a comfortable looking living-room set up. “My dear, vhat ees the matter?”

Hermione unclasped her stiff fingers. “I am so sorry, ma’am, I just didn’t want to be introduced to you like this.”

“Oh, do not vorry. Sit, sit,” Mrs. Krum laughed in a little titter, and sat across from Hermione, on an expensive looking couch. Hermione sat in a large armchair, taking in the rest of the room. There was a small kitchenette. As she looked back, Hermione saw that Mrs. Krum was pouring tea from the old-looking set that had been sitting on the coffee table between them. When she was finished, Mrs. Krum daintily wiped her hand on her skirt, and held it out to Hermione. “Here then: I am Helga Krum,” she smiled at Hermione. 

Hermione blushed. “Hermione Granger, ma’am,” she shook Mrs. Krum’s hand, trying to remember what her father had taught her about good handshakes. 

Viktor's mother smiled. There was a sound of shouting from upstairs, and Hermione flinched. Mrs. Krum sipped at her tea, smile gone. “Ma’am...I am sorry for what happened, I -”

“Quiet now!” Mrs. Krum frowned. “You see….vell, Viktor was not...his father had asked heem not to go and get you. That res all.”

Hermione didn’t know what to say. 

“Ve vere going to send an employee of ours to collect you, it was dangerous out there, but he vent out anyvay!” Mrs. Krums voice was tight. 

Silence again. A thump from upstairs. “Oh,” was all Hermione could say. She didn’t know where this was headed. Then came footsteps, and the sound of Bulgarian voices. Mrs. Krum stood, and Hermione reached to wrap her fingers around her concealed wand. She murmured a quick translation spell. It was sloppy, but she could comprehend what was coming from Mr. Krum as he entered the room, with Viktor trailing behind with a lowered head.

Mr. Krum surprised Hermione when he spoke to her, though. In english! “Miss Granger, I apologize. My son, eet seems, did not understand the severity of vhat he has done- “

Viktor cut it quietly, “Bashta, molya. Sŭzhalyavam,” he said. Father, please. I’m sorry.

“Tya ne raboti po tozi nachin, Viktor!” Mr. Krum snapped. It doesn’t work that way, Viktor! Looking back at Hermione, Mr. Krum spoke again in english. “It seems my son had not told you the repercussions of his actions. Thees ees no simple act of disobedience,

“Ve vill be headed back home, as soon as morning comes,” Mr. nodded Krum. “By then it should be safe enough to send you home to England.”

Hermione fliched, but it was overshadowed by the cry of surprise from Viktor. “Bashta!” he cried, his tough, soldier persona lost. He looked frantically at Hermione. “She came all this way, she did nothing wrong-”

“Che go! Mozhe da sa bili dokosnati,” Viktor’s father replied, harshly. You did! You could have been touched. Hermione didn’t understand that, and wondered if her charm had gone wrong.

Viktor bowed his head.

“No bikhte mogli da imat, a ti mi se podchini. Znaete li, ne ochakvam da se nakazva? Razbirate li kakvo mozheshe da se sluchi?” Viktor’s father took a step towards him, and everyone in the room stopped breathing. But you could have, and you disobeyed me. Did you not expect to be punished? Do you understand what could have happened? “Po-losho ot smŭrtta, Viktor. Nie ne znaem kak raboti tazi novo orŭzhie,” Worse than death, Viktor. We don't know how this new weapon works.

Hermione, in a very unlike-Hermione moment, prayed her charm wasn’t working. Had she pulled Viktor into some kind of new danger? Viktor looked up at his father. He shot a sideways glance at Hermione. “Don’t vorry,” he told her. He addressed Mr. Krum again. “Zasluzhavam nyakoi posleditsi, bashta, no molya... izbirat neshto drugo,” he murmured. I deserve discipline, father, of course, but please...choose something else. 

“Oh? Kakvo drugo bi oznachavalo, kolkoto za vas?” What else would mean as much to you? Mr. Krum shook his head. Viktor looked again at Hermione. He took a breath and blurted out.

“Da si vzema metlata,” he nodded. Hermione tried not to react. She didn’t want Viktor to know she was eavesdropping. Take my broom, he had said.

Mr. Krum froze. “Boris, this... ees fair,” Mrs. Krum took his arm. “This girl is tired, she is confused, and she deserves to have a safe haven for a vhile. She vill stay.” 

Viktor gave a sigh. “Blagodarya vi, maĭka,” he thanked his mother as he strode towards Hermione.

“I vould like to show her around. She deserves an explanation,” Viktor looked at his father questioningly. His father nodded, and Viktor lead her out of the room in a swoop of his cloak.


	3. Dark Circles

“So, those vere my parents…” Viktor sighed. He hadn’t really shown her around, except the way to her room for the night. He was sitting on the end of the bed, head in his hands. “My father vanted to send you home, because I disobeyed an order he had given me.”

Hermione stood a bit aways, arms crossed nervously. She tried to not look guilty. Viktor stood. “I convinced him otherwise, so it is alright now.” Vikter shuffled nervously. Wasn’t mentioning any new dark weapon...hm.

There was for a moment, only the sound of their breathing, as they looked at each other.

It was Vikter that closed the distance. It was a clumsy hug, but it felt good. “I haven’t gotten to really say hello, yet,” she murmured. 

“Hello,” he replied into her hair. He was strong, and she could feel every muscle in his arms and back move as he sighed. “I missed you.” he pulled away. Sheepishly, he scratched at the back of his head. “You probably want some sleep…” he pointed to her backpack, which sat in a chair in the corner. She didn’t know how it got there, but didn’t really care.

“Viktor,” she breathed. Just as beautiful as always. He broke their gaze, as if pulling himself out of a dream. He coughed, looking at his feet. He went for the door.

“Ve vill leave after breakfast, in the morning. Sleep vell?” He opened the door, turning around to face her. His hand rested on the nob, looking back. 

“Thank you,” Hermione whispered. “Goodnight.” Somewhat regretfully, he closed the door behind him.  
…  
Hermione let the hot water run over her, even when she had finished washing. She closed her eyes, letting it run over her face, wanting it to drown out everything going on in her head right now, wanting to stay forever in that warm bubble of steam. She hugged herself, and imagines the arms of another...Hermione sniffed, and turned off the shower. She stepped onto the linoleum, wrapping the available towel around her. Her nose was running. Hermione looked in the mirror. There were red marks on her chest, from nerves, and a blemish under her nose. Hermione turned off the light, and stepped out of the steam into her room, cold after the bathroom. 

She opened her backpack, unzipping the pocket with her clothes. Undetectable extension charm, courtesy of Mr. Perkins. She rifled around, pulling out a sweater and pair of jeans. Clothes, Hermione. Brush your teeth, Hermione. Colm your hair. Easy.

So what was causing her such agitation? She thought of Viktor. He had lied to her...but she wasn’t upset about that. It was what he had lied about. What kind of danger would make Mr. Krum as angry as he had been? Hermione opened the door to her room, into the hallway. Her room was connected to a small landing, with only a few other bedrooms (she assumed) and a stairway down to...well, a larger hallway. She made her way down the stairs, and looked left, down the hall. Was there a kitchen somewhere…? She heard a rustle from behind.

“Good morning,” Viktor smiled at her. He had been sitting in one of the comfortable-looking-but-decidedly-doctor’s-office-esque chairs that lined the hall. She smiled back. 

“Good morning,” she went to him. “I’m sorry, were you waiting for me long?”

“No…” he turned away, making a start down the hallway. 

Hermione grabbed his shoulder, suddenly, and moved around him, to look him in the eye. It was as she had suspected. “Viktor?” There were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. “Merlin, are you alright?”

“Of course...I just...did not sleep vell.”

“Did you sleep at all?” she laughed a little, but he did not smile at her joke. Shit… “How long have you been up and waiting for me?”

He took her hand, tentatively, and they began to head towards (presumably) breakfast. “I didn’t vant you to think I vas being crazy. Or, you know, ” he bit his lip. “Creepy... or anything? I just couldn’t sleep, so I got up, walked around…”

“You sat on that bench all night?” Hermione murmured, amused, but worried.

“Oi. Not even a full day, and you’ve already figured me all out?” he looked embarrassed, but he grinned at her. I wish, Hermione thought. Worse than death, his father had said. She faltered a bit in her step. “Hermione,” he tutted at her. Viktor pulled her arm.

“I...Don’t worry about it, Viktor,” she nodded. “You’re fine...is there coffee somewhere?”

He smiled at her, and the crinkles around his eyes covered the dark circles. Like just seeing her made him feel better. She wished he wouldn’t look at her like that. Not to be mistaken, it made her feel kind of like a puddle, she thought, but she wasn’t...She wasn’t sure if she felt that way about him. 

Viktor held the door before them open, and she entered a warm, bustling cafeteria. He put his hand on her back gently, pointing to a line of people waiting for whatever was smelling so delicious. Fuck it, Hermione thought. She did think about him that way. She just didn’t know if she should. She wouldn’t have come here to Bulgaria if he hadn’t requested it, over and over again in his letters. She grabbed a tray, and got into line. Viktor fell in behind her, greeting an elderly man in uniform (who had fallen in line behind Viktor) warmly in Bulgarian. Hermione just didn’t know… she sighed out loud. Fucking Ron, was who it was. He was a pain in the arse, yes, but he was hers. She cared what Ron felt about her, that was why she had felt so guilty coming here. She couldn’t really love Viktor while feeling that way about someone else. It wasn’t possible. Or...even if it was, it wasn’t fair. To anyone.

Hermione wondered if coffee would even be able to untangle her thoughts right now. A voice pierced her thoughts. An older, smiling man had told her “Good morning,” in Bulgarian. 

“Zdraveĭ…” she echoed a hello. The man held his hands out for her tray.

“You are English?” he asked, in a heavy accent. He grabbed a plate.

“Oh, yes,” Hermione smiled.

“Ah, vell for a visitor, ve vill give you a proper, traditional Bulgarian breakfast!” he began shoveling food onto her tray. “Printsesi, today. Minced meat, egg, cheese, on my own bread, grilled for you!” The man grinned, happily. He handed her the tray over the counter, and gestured for her to wait. He grabbed a glass mug of a white beverage. “Ayran, it’s a yogurt drink. For you!” Hermione balanced it all, and thanked him. Viktor had been handed the “printsesi” already, and was pointing to an empty table. He pulled out her chair for her. 

Hermione smiled, as he took a seat across from her. “It is best if you drink the foam off the top, before it pops away…” He clinked his cup of orange juice against her cup of weirdness. She drank some. 

“Oh!” she looked at the mug in surprise. It was refreshing, but...salty. 

“You like it? Technically, its Turkish, but ve still drink it a lot here.” He smiled at her, and bit into his “printsesi.” Hermione looked at her mug, wistfully. She was about to open her mouth, when Viktor began to laugh. “I know, you want some real coffee.”

“It’s become an addiction,” Hermione set down her yogurt drink. She pushed her chair back, grinning. 

“No, I’ll grab some for you.” Viktor stood.

“Thanks,” she called after him. Ugh. Why was he such a teddy bear. A clap came from behind her head. Hermione flinched, turning around rapidly. 

A set of boys stood behind her, in uniform, laughing. The tallest one grinned, “You are Viktor’s English girl, yeah?” He pushed himself of the edge of her table, and dropped into the seat across from her. He nudged Viktor’s tray aside. “We heard you’d arrived.” 

“Oh?” Hermione blinked at them.

“Yeah, yeah…” the boy leaned over a bit. “We heard he vent after some New Branch vizards, to get you.”

“Yah, heard his dad flayed him, too!” another guy grabbed a tomato slice from Viktors plate of minced-meat-bread-things. He smiled

“What?” Hermione flinched. New Branch wizards? What was this, fucking Star Wars? “What the N-”

Viktor appeared, giving the smiling boy a shove, causing him to choke on his tomato. “Anton, Ivan…” he grunted, handing Hermione a steaming, green mug. He grabbed the taller boy by his collar, yanking him up from his seat.

“Ay, Viktor, we were only introducing ourselves to your English girl!” the boy “Ivan” laughed. 

“She isn’t mine, or anyones, trust me.” Viktor poked the air before Hermione with his fork. “Get out…”

Viktor’s friends left, and Hermione frowned. “Viktor…”

“Vere they bothering you?” Viktor put down his “printsesi” in agitation.

“No, no, its that-” Hermione saw again the dark circles. Viktor looked back at her, earnestly. She couldn’t ask now. Maybe when they were at the Krum’s home, and he was rested. Shit. “Thanks for the coffee?”

“Ha, no problem.” he held up his own cup, and she clinked it. “Ve leave in an hour, I think.” She sipped at the brew, gratefully, and prayed to Merlin that this all was less...less dark than it seemed in her head.


End file.
